


in circles somewhere else

by djhedy



Series: Anchor [1]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Break Up, Food Issues, I'm Sorry, Just very sad, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Epilogue, Sad, Spoilers, adam pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-05 14:55:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18368339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djhedy/pseuds/djhedy
Summary: Adam and Ronan had been skirting the topic for weeks now, months maybe. And they both knew it.





	1. Chapter 1

They had been skirting the topic for weeks now, months maybe, and they both knew it. Adam knew it from the occasional tight set to Ronan’s shoulders when Gansey brought up admissions. Gansey, Blue and Henry were deferring applications for a year while they toured the world together, but it didn’t stop Gansey from worrying about Adam. “Seriously,” Gansey pushed, not taking the hint one January day in Nino’s, Henry spread against a corner, eyebrows slightly raised, Ronan staring out the window, Blue scratching gently at Gansey’s wrist. “I know a couple of guys who already got their acceptance letters, when you do expect to hear? Must be soon now.”

    “Must be,” Adam replied.

    “Did you decide on your first choice?”

    “Not yet.”

    “Well if you need help deciding -”

    “Got it, thanks Gansey,” Adam said with a tight smile.

    Gansey finally looked down to where Blue was now basically clawing at his skin, looked at her face, and then abruptly changed the topic.

    Ronan was very quiet after that.

    Adam knew it when they started arguing over the stupidest things.

    “I said I get it Parrish, stop trying to make me feel stupid,” Ronan barked at Adam one day when they were at Monmouth Manufacturing, just the three of them - rare these days, but Adam realised he’d missed it. Blue and Henry were family, but nostalgia made him clench with a tight grip onto Ronan and Gansey. Adam and Gansey had been discussing their history lesson and when Ronan had raised an eyebrow at something Adam had started to explain it to him.

    Adam frowned, mouth open slightly. Gansey looked at his lap, and that was another sign - Gansey, not leaping in to correct, to settle, to calm. Adam stuttered, “I - I wasn’t trying to make you feel stupid. I thought you didn’t know.”

    “Maybe I just don’t give a shit,” Ronan said, and left.

    They let him go, but Adam couldn’t look Gansey in the eye, instead let him say the necessary “Ah, he’s just having a bad day,” and then continue the conversation for a polite five minutes before Adam could excuse himself.

    They apologised later - Adam found Ronan outside his apartment and they’d hugged, Ronan defeated and quiet in his arms, all jagged breaths against his shoulder, both soft _I’m sorry_ s, but something about it hadn’t felt quite right. Adam hadn’t really understood what he was apologising for. Ronan hadn’t met his eyes that night.

    Adam knew it when Ronan made more and more excuses not to hang out with everyone. When he hadn’t picked up Adam’s third phone call, he’d raised an eyebrow at Gansey who had frowned and sent a quick text to let him know where they were. “Maybe he’ll come later,” he’d said, his smile small and shoulders sagged. Adam frowned and let Blue grab his arm as they left.

    When Adam decided to confront Ronan one day - “Why are you avoiding us? Or is it just me?” Ronan had rolled his eyes, and Adam was sure it would be followed with something sarcastic, bitter, a jostle to the shoulder, but all Ronan said, a deadened expression on his face, “I’ve been busy Parrish stop trying to make this about you.”

    That was the first week they spent apart.

    They saw each other - the next day Ronan turned up at Monmouth after school, and they’d all done their best to pretend not to be surprised, to pretend not to notice that Ronan and Adam barely looked at each other. But there was no Barns, no St Agnes, no texts, or smiles, or knowing glances. Adam kept up the facade with “See you, Lynch”, but he felt hollow.

    The following Monday Ronan’s BMW had been waiting in the school parking lot as Adam and Gansey came out. Gansey threw Adam a bright smile, as if to say _see? bad month, that’s all_  and Adam smiled weakly in return as they parted ways. As he neared the car Ronan had come out, expression clear for the first time in weeks, an anxious smile on his face as Adam approached. Adam frowned, then let Ronan kiss him, let him whisper _I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole_ against his lips, felt his hands find Ronan’s arms, dig in, murmured back _More than usual you mean_ , let Ronan kiss away Adam’s anxieties to the pit of his stomach, let himself bury them there, let himself breathe in again.

    But the next day Adam received three letters from colleges. He saw them on the floor when he got back from work. It had been a long day, the sun had probably risen and fallen on these letters and Adam hadn’t known. He showered, the quickest shower in his life, picked up the letters and drove straight over to Monmouth.

    It was late enough that Gansey was sat cross-legged on his bed, glasses on his face, book in hand. He looked up when Adam jimmied the door open and only raised his eyebrows. “It’s late, is everything alright?”

    Adam hadn’t known whether to laugh, or cry, or scream. He settled for throwing the unopened letters down on the bed and strode over to the kitchen to get a drink. Gulping down soda furiously he let Gansey’s words of encouragement, of consolation, of celebration, of caution, of delight, wash over him, until he asked, “Have you told Lynch?”

    A part of Adam wanted to lash out at the careful way that Gansey asked that question, how dare Gansey presume to know anything about _his_ relationship. But.

    “No, I came straight here.”

    “Adam -”

    “No, Gansey, he’ll ruin it. Or we will, somehow. I don’t want to talk about it, it’s hard enough - look will you just open them for me?”

    Three acceptances, two full scholarships. MIT and Harvard. Adam couldn’t breathe. Gansey clapped him on the back, grinning enough for the both of them. “I’m calling Jane!” he announced, looking around for his phone.

    “It’s late, Gansey,” Adam said, a small smile on his lips as he stared down at the letters in his hands.

    “She won’t care.”

    “Maura might.”

    “Fine,” Gansey said, handing his phone over to Adam. His smile faltered slightly but his gaze was firm. “Lynch, then.”

    Adam nodded and turned around slightly, pretending that half-turn would afford him some privacy. Despite the hour, and the person in question, Ronan answered on the second dial. “Parrish, everything ok?” The immediate concern in Ronan’s voice made something twist inside Adam. Why did he feel like he was about to deliver a punch to the gut? Hadn’t this always been the plan? Why hadn’t they _talked_ about it more?

    Adam wet his lips and said, “I got my acceptance letters today.”

    There was a pause before Ronan replied, genuine, “That’s great, man. Where did you apply again?” There was nothing malicious in Ronan’s tone, although Adam looked out for it - Ronan honestly didn’t know.

    “Well, a few places, but I’m into Harvard. And MIT.” Adam was nervous, and he wasn’t sure why.

    “Parrish, that’s -” Ronan had been leaning towards a congratulations, but Gansey’s voice in the background interrupted with _LYNCH YOU BETTER BE ON YOUR WAY OVER TO CELEBRATE._

Adam squeezed his eyes shut, still turned away from Gansey. Ronan’s voice changed tone when he asked, “You’re at Monmouth?”

    “Yeah,” said Adam. “You know, I didn’t want to open them on my own.”

    He felt Ronan nodding on the other end, heard him processing quietly. “It’s late, and Opal’s asleep, you mind if we just celebrate tomorrow?” It wasn’t a rejection, but it felt like one.

    “Ok,” Adam said, and then, not wanting to seem petulant, “Yeah of course, I know it’s late. No worries. That’s why I came here - I didn’t want to disturb you.” But as soon as he’d said it that had felt wrong too.

    “ _Didn’t want to dist-_ ” But Ronan cut himself off. Adam heard him sigh. Felt the three seconds of silence as though it were three minutes, heard Ronan say distantly, “We’ll celebrate tomorrow. Well done man.”

    “Thanks.” Ronan hung up.

    The next day things had started off good. Gansey had rounded up the gang and huddled them into a booth at Harry’s, had ordered enough gelato for an army. Ronan had arrived a few minutes late but when he did there was a grin plastered on his face as he’d drawn Adam into a hug, kissed him all over his face, “Well done you brilliant asshole,” and Adam couldn’t help grinning too, none of them could, Ronan’s good mood infectious, them all sliding into the small booth legs knocking against each other because they were family, Ronan’s hand sliding into Adam’s, fingers stroking his knuckles, occasionally squeezing his hand fiercely, as if to say _well done, you’re amazing, I’m proud of you, we’re ok we’re ok we’re ok._

    Conversation drifted but it kept coming back to college, and Adam felt Ronan’s energy ebbing away from him, all long gazes out the window, knee bouncing restlessly under the table, hand slipping thoughtlessly out of Adam’s until he reached for it again.

    “MIT is better if he wants to do engineering,” Gansey said again, frowning over Blue’s head at Henry’s.

    Henry rolled his eyes. “ _Engineering_ is a straight man’s game, _borrrring_. I thought Parrish had _soul_. You want to go to Harvard, do something deliciously liberal and artsy.” Henry grinned at Adam, and then noticed Ronan starring out the window. “Lynch! Care to make a bid for our young hero’s soul?”

    Ronan looked up slowly, as if he’d only been half paying attention. He managed a smirk and said, “Isn’t it a bit late for that?”

    Adam smiled cautiously.

    Henry barrelled onwards, “Oh sure thing, we’re all going to hell _for certain._ But while we’re living what do you think?”

    When Ronan didn’t answer Blue piped up, “Oh Ronan only wants Adam to be _happy_ ,” she said scathingly, but with a grin on her face. The save might have worked if Henry hadn’t been so determined.

    “Oh come on Lynch you must have an opinion.”

    “Nope.” Under the table Ronan’s hand slipped from Adam’s.

    “Cheng, he doesn’t -” Adam started, intending something along the lines of _he doesn’t have an opinion, he doesn’t have to, he doesn’t know how to do this without -_

But Ronan cut in, “Doesn’t what?”

    Adam blinked at him. He tried to inject as much light as possible into his voice. “I was going to say it’s ok that you don’t have an opinion. It’s fine. I don’t even know yet, I wouldn’t expect you to.”

    Ronan’s eyes were on fire. “Why? Because I’m not going to college, you wouldn’t expect me to know about this stuff?”

    At that Gansey let an exasperated sigh hit the table. “Lynch, come on, you know that’s not what he-” But at one look from Ronan he cut off short.

    Adam frowned. “No that’s not what I meant, of course that’s not what I meant. Just that this is a decision I have to make on my own.”

    Ronan reigned it in for all of two minutes while Blue cautiously picked up the thread of an earlier conversation. But Ronan’s hands were clenching and unclenching under the table and Adam was starting to feel pissed off.

    Blue complained fondly, “I don’t know how you’re going to survive without a maid,” at Gansey’s messy habits. She stroked a hand through his hair. “Feminism’s going to have a lot to teach you.”

    Gansey smiled at her. “At least I cook,” he said, glancing at Adam with amusement in his eyes. “You made that ramen noodle surprise for Lynch yet?”

    A snide remark was building its way onto Adam’s tongue when Ronan replied, “No.” It sucked all the fun out of the conversation.

    Adam looked at Ronan steadily. He was going to ask what the hell was wrong with him, but what came out was a defensive, “I cook.”

    “Sure,” Ronan replied, a cruel grin on his face, gesturing carelessly, “If I buy the easy-cook bacon.” It was pointless, mean, not even funny. Adam felt his face start to heat up. The others were twitching nervously, looking at their bowls, twiddling spoons, considering whether to interrupt.

    Before they could Adam snapped, “Why are you more of an asshole than usual Lynch?”

    “Maybe I’m just bored,” Ronan replied, sounding it, “Not all of us find your life so fascinating Parrish.”

    Adam had left the table before remembering to decide to, had got in his car, had driven back to St. Agnes - it wasn’t until the door was shut that he threw his acceptance letters across the room, and then a book, because the action hadn’t been satisfying enough, and then his words, because the noise hadn’t been satisfying enough, and then himself onto the bed, because the world hadn’t disappeared enough, and then he squeezed his eyes into his pillow until sleep came.

    The next day Blue knocked on his door before school. Adam opened it and she smiled apologetically, as if to say _Sorry I’m not him_. He let her in silently, finishing packing his things, brushing his teeth, coming out of the bathroom to find her sat quietly on his bed.

    “It’s always nice to see you, Blue,” Adam said with a sigh, “But what do you want?”

    “Do you want to talk about it?” Blue asked.

    Adam turned away. “No.”

    “Ok.” Blue stood up. “But when you do, I’m here, you know that right?” Adam nodded with his back still turned. He felt her hand land on his forearm, squeezing gently. “Congratulations Adam, you should be really proud of yourself. I am. And he will be too, when he’s done being the world’s biggest jackass. I think he’s just scared.” Blue left before Adam could reply.

    Gansey and Henry were waiting for Adam in their usual place, but had clearly strategised as when they saw Adam their faces lit up, drawing him into a discussion about how well the school would hold up as a safe-holding against a medieval army. No one mentioned admissions, or Ronan, all day, and Adam let them.

    After school he drove to the Barns.

    At the sound of the car’s approach Ronan came out, leaning against a pillar, hands stuffed in his pockets, Chainsaw perched happily on his shoulder. Adam, expressionless, said, “I guess we need to talk.” And Ronan nodded.

    Inside, they pretended everything would be ok.

    Adam had ideas, game plans, strategies, but Ronan talked over all of them.

    “I already said I’m sorry that sometimes you think I’m patronising but don’t you think it’s partly your insecurities?” Adam said, breathless at the effort of communication.

    “That’s a crappy apology, Parrish,” Ronan snapped.

    And, later, “Don’t you care that you’re ruining all of this? I don’t get it Ronan you know what I’ve been working towards -”

    “Of course I care why do you think we’re having this fucking conversation.”

    It was like Adam was hurling every unspoken thought onto the living room floor where he sat, cross-legged, determined, as Ronan paced restlessly up and down. “I’ll call you, every day.”

    “With what?”

    “I’ll buy a phone.”

    “With _what_?”

    “Don’t be an asshole I’ve been saving up for one, you think I haven’t been thinking about this?”

    “You think I haven’t either? I’ve dreamt you a phone Parrish for fuck’s sake I don’t think that’s the problem - not that you would take it.”

    “So you didn’t even try?” Ronan just glared at Adam, and he dropped it.

    Ronan left to make food when Opal ran in, giving Adam a fierce hug and circling Ronan’s legs all the way to the kitchen, and Adam lay down on the rug, eyes counting cracks in the ceiling. A plate appeared by his face sometime later, and he sat up. They ate in silence. At some point the sun edged out of the sky.

    Adam moved and sat on the other end of the sofa to Ronan. He held out a hand, touched Ronan’s jaw lightly, moved him towards his own, leaned in and kissed him gently. He felt Ronan kiss him back, but he also felt all of the breath shudder out of him. All of the fight.

    “I want to _try_ ,” Adam said hoarsely, for the third time, looking into Ronan’s eyes.

    Ronan looked away. He wrestled with something, and Adam tensed. “I don’t.”

    Adam drew his hand back, the buzzing in his ear drowning out Ronan's words. "No," he said quietly. He gulped. "You don't mean that Ronan. We always knew it was going to be hard, right? I - I can try harder -"

    Ronan just closed his eyes.

    Some time later Adam left the Barns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure why I thought writing partly autobiographically would result in anything other than a huge sad mess. There's gonna be more. xx


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> c/n: loss of appetite, skipping meals (isn't going to turn into full on eating disorder or anything, just so you know)

Adam is thankful, for the first time, that Ronan dropped out of Aglionby. It makes waking up the next day easier. And harder. He is dragged to consciousness by his alarm clock, an incessant reminder that today he has to exist. He opens his eyes almost immediately, as he always does, and allows himself to stare at the ceiling for one minute. Two. After a third his body moves mechanically and he finds himself some time later walking to school. It’s a beautiful day and he can’t blame his body for opting for once for the slow walk to the outskirts of Henrietta. He won’t be early today, but he doesn’t mind. The even patter of his steps on the pavement, the distant foggy mountains and quiet birdsong occupy his dulled senses for an hour.

Gansey and Henry aren’t waiting for him by the pine tree in front of the steps. He considers that he might be late, but lifting his wrist to check the time seems like a wasted effort. He ascends the steps and makes his way to first period. He opens the door and it’s like  _ Adam  _ floods back to him in a hot shock. Faces turn upwards, surprised -  _ Parrish, late?  _ \- and even Mrs Henley can’t seem to bring herself to scold him.  _ Late, Mr Parrish? Well, sit down.  _ He feels his face warm, mutters an apology, makes his way to the back of the classroom. He is spared Gansey’s disapproval or pity as he doesn’t share Adam’s enthusiasm for Math.  _ It’s a necessary evil,  _ Adam would say,  _ I don’t love it, but Math will help me get into, well, anything.  _ Gansey would scoff and retort,  _ It would not have helped us get into Cabeswater.  _ And Adam wouldn’t respond.

His skin feels tight today. Or, no, that’s not right. Loose? It’s the wrong shape and he finds himself shuffling in and out of his jacket, not sure what the temperature should be in mid-February Virginia. Either way it’s  _ crawling  _ and as one hand scribbles notes the other acts as a resting point for Adam’s forehead, and he uses line breaks on his page as reminders to breathe.

He doesn’t see Gansey until lunchtime, finds him at their usual table. Watches him from across the room for a minute, closes his eyes briefly, shuffles forward.

Gansey looks up, and smiles, eyes full of concern. “Parrish,” he says in welcome.

Adam sits down and starts picking at his food, immediately shuffling between possible conversation topics in the heavy fog of his mind. They sit in silence for a few minutes, and Adam can’t remember whether they have shared an awkward silence before. Amused ones, angry ones, comfortable ones, sure. But this feels awkward and Adam can almost feel the weight of Gansey’s cogs turning, trying to decide how much to interfere.

It had been awkward for all of them, initially. Suddenly Gansey’s two best friends both had new relationships, and they happened to be with each other. Gansey hadn’t been sure how much to ask, and Adam hadn’t been sure how much to let out. It had taken a while for them all to adapt to the new dynamic, but Adam’s first priority had been not letting Gansey go. Ronan, too, both of them rolling their eyes as hard as possible whenever Gansey implied they might want alone time that night.  _ Look Gansey we’ll fucking tell you alright stop pissfooting around  _ Ronan snapped eventually _ ,  _ and Adam had laughed so hard at ‘pissfooting’, Gansey grinning along, that it was never mentioned again.

Arguing was a new territory though, and Adam suddenly realised he didn’t want Gansey to have to choose. Didn’t want to know how that would end.

“Have you spoken to Ronan?” Adam didn’t look up. Actually didn’t reply at all, still chewing over the truth. Saying it out loud would be unbearable. Adam shrugs, and can see Gansey’s hand still, his fork fall to rest on the table. “This is awkward,” Gansey finally acknowledges, a short laugh. Adam looks up. “I feel like I want to apologise for his behaviour, but…” Gansey shakes his head.

Adam swallows. “It’s not really like that anymore, is it.”

Gansey watches him. “No. Not really.”

At that Henry arrives, clattering into his seat as if he doesn’t notice the thick haze of unspoken words at the table. “Gang!” he announces loudly, fist bumping Gansey and grinning wildly at Adam. “What are we discussing?”

“Lynch is an asshole,” Gansey says firmly, and Adam raises an eyebrow. “I’m not taking sides, I’m just stating facts. I’m a big fan of stating the facts.”

Henry nods, “It’s true, it’s undeniable. Both that you’re a huge nerd and that Ronan’s a huge asshole.”

Adam stares miserably down at his plate. If this is supposed to be making him feel better, it isn’t. He doesn’t want to think about Ronan. But he knows he has to get it over with eventually. He clears his throat, and in a hurry, says, “We broke up.” Through the silence eats a forkful of chicken defiantly.  _ Look, I’m even eating _ , he thinks, but it’s immediately followed by a nausea so strong he puts his fork down.

“You… what?”

Adam looks at Gansey, making his gaze as clear and steady as possible, repeats, “We broke up. It’s fine. I’d rather not -”

“Holy shit,” breathes Henry. “But that’s not possible! You guys are disgusting. You’re my couple goals!” Adam doesn’t think that’s worthy of a response.

“Adam,” says Gansey gently, drawing his attention back to him. “What happened?”

“I can’t -” starts Adam, as the conversation from yesterday reels over him like a  thundercloud, like a tape stuck on repeat, like nausea working its way through his body over and over again. For the first time that day he’s unable to push it down, unable to stop himself from hearing  _ I want to try _ and Ronan’s  _ I don’t  _ replay through his head. “It’s - look it doesn’t matter, can we just not talk about it?” Clenches his fork so tight his skin turns white. Wonders if he really is going to throw up. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to… this won’t change things.” He says it for Gansey, not really considering whether it’s true or not.

Gansey frowns. “Adam,” he says again, “that’s not what I care about right now. Are you alright?”

“Does he look alright?” Henry says, ever the one to get straight to the point. “Do we need to dropkick a certain Irish farmer? I mean, I’m too afraid for my life to do it personally, but I have plenty of connections in the dropkicking world. Just say the -”

“Cheng,” Adam interrupts quietly, not meeting either of their eyes, and Henry stops. “Thank you,” he says mechanically, “but I have to go.” He stands up, plate still full of food, and walks away.

Adam allows Gansey and Henry to talk him into joining them at Monmouth after school. All he wants to do is to climb into his bed and never leave, but Gansey knows he hasn’t eaten all day and they grab take out on the way. They sit on the floor, and Adam doesn’t know how to explain that he has no appetite, that the smell of the food makes him feel sick. Takes a bite when Gansey’s looking, then puts his fork down. Satisfies himself with listening to Gansey and Henry’s chatter.

An hour later there’s a knock at the door, and Adam tenses, but it’s just Blue. Relief floods through him, briefly, and then he’s tense again. Unless Gansey called Blue’s house, she wouldn’t know.

“Hey,” she says warmly, sitting by Adam’s side and squeezing his knee, resting her head briefly on his shoulder. She picks up Adam’s food, probably unaware that he and Gansey have been having a silent argument over it, and starts unashamedly eating out of his container.

Gansey and Henry share a glance and look away, but Blue catches it. “What did I miss?” she asks, and when they fail to answer immediately, looks to Adam. “Is everything… Adam?” Because she must have seen the look in Adam’s eyes. Her gaze softens. She doesn’t ask, instead smiles brightly and holds out a forkful of noodles. Adam frowns, bewildered at the gesture, but without more than one option presented to him tilts his head forward obligingly and eats it. “How about a movie night?” she suggests, and Adam’s heart fills.

The two of them shift so that they’re leaning against the sofa that Henry and Gansey are sitting in, Gansey for once not stroking Blue’s hair or laying a hand on her shoulder. Adam doesn’t know whether to feel grateful for the consideration or annoyed at how careful they’re all being. Blue alternates between eating Adam’s food and feeding it to him, and Adam goes along with it. It’s little enough that it doesn’t make him feel like he’s going to throw up, and enough that Gansey stops watching him out the corner of his eye. The movie isn’t quite enough to hold Adam’s attention, but Henry and Blue’s scathing commentary is, and he almost laughs at one point. Blue hugs him tightly when he leaves, and standing in the parking lot memory and cold winter air hit him simultaneously. He takes in a sudden shallow breath. Lets it out. Starts walking home.

 

On Monday Adam wakes up feeling more  _ Adam _ . He managed to spend the weekend pulling extra shifts at the factory, working 16 hours straight before collapsing into bed. Blue turned up at his house early Sunday morning and Adam shook his head in apology, not meeting her eyes, explaining under his breath that he was going to be late to work, drove off before she could reply. 

    Today, he frowns at his reflection, mutters,  _ Okay then _ , washing more thoroughly than yesterday, taking extra care over packing his bag, drives to school. His stomach rumbles and he can’t remember how much he’s eaten that weekend. Thinks he remembers having a sandwich on Saturday. He greets Henry and Gansey in the usual place. He’s not happy, he doesn’t smile, but he’s there. Shame over his mood on Friday and a weird adrenaline after the weekend’s exhaustion is enough to push him through the day. He’s remembered to bring his acceptance letters, so he waves Gansey and Henry off at lunchtime and instead takes the letters to the guidance counsellor, manages to smile as she hugs him, gets her to help him make a list of what he has to do next. Feels disappointed that it’s not all that long, but in fourth period Mr Coe mentions the possibility of extra-credit and he hangs on his every word after class ends, Gansey waiting patiently in the corridor as Adam writes down the work in neat bullet points.

    By Friday evening he’s run out of things to do. He spent the week studying for tests that weren’t coming up, rewriting homework again and again, taking notes to Gansey’s when they forced him out of his flat, reading and re-reading as his friends talked over him, waving away food impatiently. “You have to eat,” Blue said last night.

    Adam had been trying to rewrite his illegible notes from English into paragraphs in case the topic came up in an essay question, but when he looked up he was surprised to see his friends looking at him, concerned. With a frown at Blue he took the slice of pizza and spent the rest of the evening nibbling at it.

    It’s not that he doesn’t want to eat, Adam couldn’t care less about his body or what he looks like. But he doesn’t have any appetite, and doesn’t care.

    He frowns down at his desk, not comprehending that there can be nothing left to do, reaches for his bag, wondering if he couldn’t perhaps tighten his argument in his history assignment.

    There’s a knock at the door. Gansey stands there, hands in pockets, winning smile on his face. “Parrish, what are you up to?”

    Adam walks back to his desk, an invitation, and hears the door close. “Homework,” he replies.

    “Ah,” says Gansey. When Adam doesn’t move to reach for notes or a book though Gansey presses, “Is it urgent?”

    Adam looks back at him. He feels slightly light-headed. It had  _ felt  _ urgent a moment ago, but Gansey’s arrival has somehow sucked all the energy out of him. Adam slumps back in his chair, looks down at the desk again, and shrugs. “I guess not,” he says, desperately trying to remember what he’d been going to do next. Wonders if there’s a to do list somewhere he’s missing. Starts rifling through his notebook when Gansey’s hand touches his and he stills.

    “I thought we could go for a drive.”

 

Virginia is lovely that evening. Curling fog clings to the side of the mountain as the Camaro struggles up it before Gansey picks the right gear, the Pig shooting forwards. Adam gazes out the window, at the rising valley and the setting sun. It’s cloudy, but he likes it like this - pinks and blues and oranges mingle before stilling.

Gansey reaches a viewpoint and pulls over so that they’re facing the valley, the sky, everything. With bags of fries in each of their laps, Adam picking at his own unenthusiastically, he waits for Gansey to speak. He knows what’s coming, and an urge to get out the car, to escape, washes over him.

“I saw Ronan,” is what Gansey says.

“Is that really what you want to say to me?” Adam replies, not angry, just tired.

“He wouldn’t tell me anything either.” Adam lets the silence sit between them. It’s not that he doesn’t want Gansey to know. Words feel dangerous, and he’s been avoiding them all week. Knows that if he says them out loud, to another person, especially to  _ Gansey  _ who knows him better than anyone, that they’ll be true. Actually maybe he doesn’t want Gansey to know. Adam isn’t sure how he’ll react.  _ To what, exactly? _ he thinks, and it occurs to him that isn’t even really sure what to say.

    Adam feels heavy, and he sighs, resting his head back, closing his eyes. “We broke up.”

    “Yes, I… Yes I know that.” Gansey’s voice is patient. “What happened? I don’t understand. I know the two of you were fighting…”

    “Then you do know.”

    “Fighting doesn’t have to mean breaking up.”

    Adam opens his eyes but looks out the window. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

    “I want you to tell me the truth,” Gansey says firmly, and it’s the voice Adam can’t turn away from, so he drags his eyes from the darkening sky and into Gansey’s darkening eyes. “Did Lynch end it?”

    Adam manages to nod, feeling embarrassed at the admission. As Gansey swears and looks away Adam feels so  _ juvenile _ . “I don’t know what difference that makes…” he starts.

    Gansey curses again and Adam falls silent. “For god’s sake Parrish of course it makes a difference,” he says, running one hand through his hair, the other gripping the steering wheel. “For one thing now I know who to send my official letter of complaint to.” Gansey pauses, considering, and Adam watches him warily. “It’s ok,” Gansey says finally, “to talk to me about him, if you want to. I’m more than happy to take sides on his one,” he mutters darkly. Then he closes his eyes and suddenly Adam wants to comfort Gansey, as if Gansey had been more let down by Ronan than Adam has.

    “I don’t want you to,” Adam says.

    Gansey lets out a breath. “I know.”

    They watch the sky until all traces of light has faded, and then Gansey drives them home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this will be another 2 chapters or so. Sorry for how unrelentlessly sad it is. *shrugs* that's just how i do. xxx


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> c/n more discussion of skipping meals

Adam hasn’t seen Ronan in over a week. It wasn’t unusual for them to go a few days without contact, Adam always busy with his head down in school or work, Ronan with chores and lost in dreams at the Barns. But it was always headed off with a fast drive and desperate touches, interlocking limbs and shared breaths making up for lost time.

    It’s hard not to think of that today. Adam wakes up to no alarm. It’s Saturday, and he doesn’t have anything to do. Paranoia makes him wonder if Gansey had called Boyd, as his boss had basically banned him going to work that day. _Come in Sunday if you’re gonna throw a tantrum but you’re making the rest of the guys hate you._  Adam scowls at his ceiling. Gets up. Stands awkwardly in his room. Sighs and gets back under the covers, throws his pillow on the ground, pushes his head firmly into the mattress, wills himself into oblivion.

    A few hours later someone knocks on the door and when he doesn’t answer immediately, mind hazy from dozing, knocks again and shouts “Parrish I know you’re in there,” and of course it’s Gansey.

    He drags himself up, answers the door in his greying tshirt and loose boxers, opens it a fraction and squints against the bright day. “Gansey,” he says, and tries to smile. “I’d say it was nice to see you, but…”

    Gansey grins, gestures behind him to where Henry is leaning out of the Pig. “We’ve come to steal you away, is that alright?” When Adam opens his mouth to reply Henry yells, “ _Get in the shower Parrish, and while you’re at it throw that tshirt away for the love of god_ ,” and Adam closes the door in Gansey’s face, but with a sigh he raises his voice to carry through wood and says, “Give me five minutes.”

    Henry has moved to the back so Parrish slides into the passenger seat, raises an eyebrow at the backseat and asks, “Where’s Blue today? Nino’s?” They don’t answer him immediately and Adam looks out the window, “Forget it,” he mumbles.

    “She wanted to check on Opal,” Gansey says tightly.

    “It’s ok if she wanted to check on Lynch,” Adam says, hearing how distant his voice sounds, “I never said I wanted you guys to hate him.”

    “It’s tricky, for sure,” Henry says leaning forward and clapping a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “But I think you’re within your rights to want us to hate him a _little_.”

    Adam actually smiles at that, let’s himself feel grateful at the warmth of Henry’s touch before shrugging it off. They drive in silence - Gansey seems to be in no hurry to get to wherever they’re going, does a few laps of downtown before heading onto the interstate.

    The conversation with Gansey the night before bounces around his brain before he asks, “What are we doing today?”

    Gansey looks at Henry in the mirror and Henry grins. “I had an idea.”

    They pull off the 64 and then again, and turn into the go-karting place.

    Gansey pays their entrance fees and Adam manages a smile before climbing into his kart.

    They can’t possibly know that Ronan took him here a few times. He shrugs off the memory of the first time; it was late October, and Ronan had dismissed Adam’s teasing that he was finally being taken on a real date when Ronan picked him up in his car, and when they arrived, Ronan grinning, Adam saying _Seriously? We’re not twelve, you literally own your dream car_ , Ronan scoffing _You’re thinking of the Orange Nightmare, mine’s the real thing,_ looking intently at Adam with something of a tease in his dangerous eyes. Adam gulping, remembering he got to kiss him now when he looked at him like that.

    Now, he closes his eyes, opens them again, stuffs the memory deep down in his stomach along with the rest of them, drives around the racetrack in a daze, concentrates on Henry and Gansey’s loud thrills and whoops.

    Afterwards they’re sat in an unfamiliar diner, and Adam’s ignoring the way Gansey shifts the menu closer to him before Henry gives up and just orders for him when the waitress comes. He doesn’t care, he’ll eat whatever it is if it’ll get them to stop staring at him.

    Except when it arrives it isn’t that easy.

    “When was the last time you ate three meals a day, Parrish?” asks Henry, no shame or hesitation to his voice, and Adam wonders if they’ve discussed him, planned this.

    Adam barely manages not to roll his eyes. “I’m fine, I eat enough.”

    “No but seriously,” Henry says brightly, waving off his words, “You look like shit.” He smiles at Adam’s glare. Adam waits for Gansey to join in, but Gansey’s gaze is steady. Henry continues, “How much weight have you lost?”

    Adam doesn’t meet Henry’s eyes, looks out the window, feels something surge upwards. He’s angry. “So it was ok to skip meals and lose weight because there wasn’t enough food in the house,” he begins quietly, “or enough money in my bank account, or enough time in the day.” He waits, but so do they. “But now that I feel so sick I can’t even look at it you’re giving me a hard time. Great.” He’s still quiet, but it’s the most words he’s strung together in days, and he knows they feel the weight of it.

    And suddenly Adam feels ashamed. _This is so stupid,_  he thinks, and looks at his pancakes. Picks up a fork and starts eating, slowly, feels colour rising in his cheeks. Wants to cry.

    What he didn’t say was that he did start weighing himself. Realised that he was starting to feel pleased that if something good was going to come out of this it might as well be saving money, saving pounds, maybe getting a bit healthier. Let’s the magnitude of those unspoken words sit on the table, wills Gansey and Henry to start another conversation. They do. Adam eats half of his pancakes.

 

The next day Adam wakes up feeling a little better. Doesn’t let himself acknowledge it or analyse it too hard, if he does he knows he’ll not want to feel better, will want to crawl back into darkness.

    He turns up at Blue’s house, knocks on the door. When she answers she’s smiling brightly at him, and they immediately head round the back to sit by the tree. It’s a warmer day than yesterday, and Adam tilts his face towards the sun.

    “What’s up?” asks Blue.

    “How is he?” Adam doesn’t have the spare brain power to feel ashamed, or hesitant.

    Blue sighs. “He’s - look why don’t you ask him yourself?” Adam picks at grass, looking down at his calloused fingers. “You haven’t seen him since you guys broke up?” Adam shakes his head. “Well… he’s a bastard,” she says with a grim laugh. “He’s angry, he’s… I don’t know Adam, he’s Ronan. I think he’s sad,” she finishes. “Do you really want to hear this? You know you guys are going to have to see each other eventually.”

    Adam nods. “I know,” he says, “That’s really why I’m here. Shall we… shall we do something today? Uh, invite Ronan?”

    He feels Blue’s surprise permeate the bright day. “Sure,” she says softly. “He’ll be at church with his brothers now, right? But maybe tonight?” Adam nods. “What do you think we should do? Harry’s? Monmouth?”

    Adam considers. “Monmouth,” he says. “Neutral ground.” He doesn’t know how to explain why Harry’s doesn’t feel like neutral ground, except he doesn’t want to hear _Not all of us find your life fascinating_ ringing through his ears. It doesn’t matter that he knows Ronan didn’t really mean it, the shame of the hurt still courses through his body.

    “Are you sure you want to see him?”

    Adam sighs, “Blue you just said -”

    “I know what I said but I didn’t mean it had to be _today_.”

    Adam shrugs. “I feel like we owe it to you guys to try.”

    After a pause Blue says, “Ok,” and nods. Adam stands up and leaves.

 

After his shift at Boyd’s Adam showers and then makes his way to Monmouth. He walks, as it’s still a beautiful day, the sun low in the sky, bright enough to put warmth on his cheeks. He hasn’t heard from anyone, so he doesn’t know if Ronan will be there. Doesn’t know which way he hopes it goes.

    The BMW is sat in the parking lot, and Adam wishes he’d had a quicker shower, that he could have arrived first at least. Runs a hand through his hair, messing it up slightly and then fixing it again. Flattens his tshirt. Walks up the stairs.

    Inside Ronan is sat on the floor with Chainsaw by his feet. Blue is saying something to him, one hand in the air absently by Chainsaw’s beak, letting the bird nip her finger gently. Henry is bent low over the pool table, muttering to himself, so it’s Gansey who seems him first, cue in hand. He smiles and holds out the cue to Adam. “Parrish,” he announces loudly, and Ronan and Blue look up. “Show Cheng how it’s done.”

    Adam hesitates, slings off his jacket and walks forwards, not meeting Ronan’s eyes. “We both know that won’t happen,” he says, and Gansey laughs, clapping his back. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Blue snapping her fingers in front of Ronan, repeating her question, Ronan slowly looking back down at the floor. Their conversation continues gently and Adam barely registers the words, something about what birds can be raised domestically, lets himself get lost in the game. Measures angles in his mind, calculates speed and impact, leans along the cue, doesn’t notice Ronan’s flickering gaze.

    An hour later, take away containers strewn across the room, quiet music playing in the background, his friends’ conversations, he wonders if that will do. He’s proven he can be in the same room as Ronan - even if they haven’t spoken a word to each other - proven their friends won’t have to choose, that everything will be ok. That, and he thinks he might be having a heart attack.

    He’s leaning against the wall, watching Gansey and Henry play pool. Blue and Ronan have migrated over to the kitchen/laundry/bathroom, Ronan learning against the doorway with a beer in one hand, one eye on Adam as Adam tries subtly to measure the pulse at his wrist. It’s too fast, and there’s not enough _air_ in here. He runs a hand through his hair, shifts position, puts one foot up on the wall behind him. He hasn’t been able to look at Ronan yet, can’t bear to be here, words and truths are hurtling themselves against the walls in his head and he realises with a jolt that he’s not felt anything for a week. Feels it now, despair clawing up through his throat, the food he’s eaten that evening a hollow lump in his stomach, and knows he has to leave.

    He clears his throat, mutters to Gansey, “Back in a minute,” puts his water down on the desk and grabs his jacket on the way out, practically throws himself down the stairs, and outside sucks in huge lungfuls of air, sits down on the ground, back against the wall and knees pulled up to his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut, counts to ten, tries to breathe in for five out for five but there’s not enough _air_ damnit, counts again -

    “Hey,” comes a familiar voice, and Adam doesn’t open his eyes. “Breathe.”

    “I think… I’m not having a heart attack,” Adam grits out.

    Ronan understands. “I know, dumbass, of course you’re not. It’s just a panic attack. Come on. I’m gonna count and you’re going to breathe ok?” Ronan does, mutters _in_ and counts to five, and then _out_ and counts back down to one. Adam doesn’t let himself think about the grounding hand on his bare arm, his own hands clenching painfully at the concrete underneath him, Ronan’s gravelly voice a breath away. He just listens to the numbers, waits for the next instruction, follows it, _in, out._

    Some time later he realises it’s become easier to breathe, and Ronan’s stopped speaking. He opens his eyes slowly, unclenches his fists, brings his palms into his lap to study them. There’s a scratch along his knuckle. After another minute he says, “Thanks.”

    “You don’t have to… it’s nothing,” Ronan says quietly, shifting so that he’s sat leaning against the wall next to him. It’s late and the world has turned a navy blue in Adam’s absence.

    “We should go back in,” says Adam. Ronan nods. But it’s minutes later before they get up, Adam leading the way up the stairs.

    Blue and Henry look away, become intensely interested in their mugs, as Adam enters the room, Ronan behind him, but Gansey smiles at him. “Everything… ok?” he asks. Adam nods. “How about ice cream?”

    The idea makes Adam feel sick. He starts shaking his head but Ronan says, “Don’t be stupid,” and the room goes still. “You didn’t eat any dinner,” Ronan adds. “We’re going for ice cream.” He moves to get his car keys as if no one’s staring at him, and Gansey looks at Adam, so he shrugs. Ronan drives for once, but Adam sits in the back, Blue’s hand wrapped around his arm, holding tight. Adam doesn’t look at the leather interior, gazes determined out the window, watches buildings race past. As soon as they arrive he slams open the door and storms out, almost at the door to Harrys when Ronan catches up. “Parrish, I’m sorry, we should have taken the Pig.”

    “It’s fine,” says Adam, tight and angry, not looking round. As he waits for someone to find them a table his brain betrays him, and he can feel leather beneath his back, skin clammy and tense, one hand running through his hair, another lower down on his body, Ronan’s breath on his cheek, a shuddered _You’re perfect._

    At the waiter’s appearance he moves, furious with Ronan, with himself for getting in the damn BMW, shoving memories down his throat, shoving himself into a booth and the menu into’s Ronan’s face. “What am I having then, asshole?” and Ronan actually grins. Adam looks away in a huff, arms folded, but his lips twitch. When the others catch up, Henry and Blue sidling in next to Adam, Gansey next to Ronan, it almost looks like they’re smiling. Ronan pretends to peruse the menu with all the seriousness of a mid-term, orders pistachio for Adam and caramel for himself, throws the menu down on the table when he’s done, lets Henry draw him into an argument about the _Fast and the Furious_ for the tenth time.

    Adam knows he should be angry. At the counting, the ice cream, the car. But he finds himself grinning, a spoon making its way unnoticed through his ice cream, as Ronan says, for the tenth time, “That’s not how you do a handbrake turn,” as Henry says, for the tenth time, “It’s a pretty furious handbrake turn though don’t you think,” goading him, and Ronan looks at Adam with a pained expression on his face, and they’re remembering the same conversation. _So you don’t think they’re fast enough_ or _furious enough,_ Adam said on the sofa, one leg over Ronan’s knee, popcorn balanced precariously somewhere. Ronan muttered, one hand on Adam’s leg, _I don’t think whoever made these movies has ever even been in a car_ , and Adam threw popcorn at him, _So why have you made me watch seven of them?_ It’s one of his favourite rants, and Adam knows that, even though Ronan would never admit it.

    Now, Adam grins at Ronan’s expression, “Could be more furious though,” he says, and ignores the surprised look from Blue, the pleased one from Gansey. He looks at his ice cream. Eats another spoonful, feels the weight of Ronan’s gaze on him as Henry rambles on without them. And then something heavy sinks in his stomach. Like the weight of remembering, of the crashing reality back into his system, has added an extra pound to his body. The smile falls from his face. He puts his spoon down. Breathes in. Counts to five.


	4. Chapter 4

After that it gets a little easier. Easier to shift back into what had previously counted as normal. Every time the grin that means _happiness_ more than anything else appears on Ronan’s face Adam has to look away, and he tries to avoid inside jokes after Harrys, though once or twice a topic comes up and they accidentally make eye contact, knowing exactly what response the other would have.

    Like Henry mentions that he misses the ocean, how he used to swim in the sea on vacation, and Gansey responds by saying they could all take a trip to the coast in the summer. Adam can’t swim, but only Ronan knows that. And Ronan only knows because of the pond at the Barns that, on one surprisingly warm day in October, he and Opal had jumped into, and eventually Adam too, because Ronan promised him it was shallow. But his foot slipped on a rock at the bottom of the pit and his face went under and Ronan had to pull him out, coax his breath back. Ronan raises an eyebrow at him, and Adam allows it for two seconds before looking away, unimpressed.

_I am unknowable,_  he thinks. _You don’t get it both ways._

    For the most part they manage to avoid being alone. Ronan is sometimes there with them, wherever, in the evenings, and sometimes he isn’t. Adam imagines it’s thoughtfulness, however unwanted, that keeps Ronan away. As if he thinks Adam is this unpredictable mess that needs handling.

    It’s that thought that makes him tell Gansey to call him, to see where he is. It’s the beginning of March, a Friday, and they’ve been broken up for three weeks. Adam still has to swallow down the rise in his throat when he thinks about that, but he’s become better at compartmentalising. Sometimes a look or a word are enough to pull up a painful memory, make him break, to leave early, to throw his head under his pillow. But mostly he just feels deadened.

    “Call him,” he says again. “He hasn’t seen this one.” Embarrassment claws up his skin, makes him look away from Gansey’s confused expression. Henry suggested a movie that’s the final installment in a series they’ve all seen; Adam knows Ronan hasn’t seen it because they watched the first three together.

    _“The fuck is this.”_

_“The Hunger Games,” said Adam, trying not to sound amused._

_“Why doesn’t she just punch that asshole in the face?”_

_“Have you been listening, like, at all? If she does she’ll just get killed -”_

_“Whatever, better to punch and die that’s what I always say.”_

_“-and they’d probably kill Gale and her sister first.”_

_Ronan didn’t reply to that, but his focus sharpened on the screen. When Katniss offered to take her sister’s place in the games, Ronan’s hand tightened slightly on Adam’s, and it was all he could do to keep his face from breaking out into a grin. He watched Ronan’s face out of the corner of his eye for the rest of the movie, and when it was over Ronan rolled his eyes._

_“Obviously they weren’t going to kill themselves, the game makers are dumbasses.”_

_“It’s a movie, Lynch.”_

_“It’s dumb,” he mutters, before adding, “Katniss was alright though.”_

_“Sorry, what was that? Did you just express a positive opinion about another human being? You know that wasn’t real, right?”_

Adam remembers melting into his arms as Ronan silenced him with a gentle kiss. Content but quietly adamant Ronan always made him melt. They watched the second and third movies together.

“Sure,” Gansey says, snapping Adam back to the present. He’s still looking at him when he dials Ronan’s number. Ronan doesn’t answer, so Gansey texts instead. It’s a few minutes later when his phone lights up. “He’s on his way,” Gansey says, and Adam looks away.

    It’s become easier, and harder. Part of Adam thinks that nothing will be easy again. He knows, logically, that the thought is melodramatic, probably not true. And there's never been a part of him that settled for easy. He doesn't want easy; he wants a hundred miles an hour, wants summer storms, every late night homework session that has Ronan flicking rubber bands at him, Adam's patience running out. Adam sags against the couch.

    They’ve avoided being alone since his panic attack. He still doesn’t know where that came from, but figures that it was probably trying to push down his feelings at seeing Ronan again. But that means they haven’t talked since the break up. Adam doesn’t know what Ronan’s thinking, if he’s sad or relieved or tired or happier now or regrets any of it. Feels ashamed at the hope that settles in his stomach. When Henry offers him a beer he takes it, surprising his friends, gulps down enough to burn the feeling away with acid.

    “Woah,” says Henry, cautiously settling next to Adam. “Didn’t know you even drank.”

    “I don’t,” says Adam, ignoring the warning in his brain. He doesn’t have the energy to fight two demons tonight, and it’s been a long time since he thought about his father with any real fear. _Fuck him_ , he thinks, and takes another gulp.

    By the time Ronan appears Adam’s on his second beer. Gansey doesn’t comment, though he clearly wants to. Blue merely settles at Adam’s feet, leaning against his legs. It’s something she’s taken to doing, touching him on the arm or shoulder, leaning into him, an arm wrapped around his middle. He pats his hair, and then freezes. She looks up at him, surprised, but it’s all gentle warmth on her face. He looks away, and grief hurtles through his body. He wonders what Noah would say about all this, whether he’d take sides. Imagines him trying to play peacemaker. Wonders if it would work.

    Ronan appears with a beer in hand, sits on the other side of Henry. At a quick glance at Adam Gansey sits cross-legged next to Blue, only close enough so that their knees touch. Adam doesn’t care. He cares that Lynch is one Cheng away from him. Focuses all his energy on the television screen.

    “Parrish said you haven’t seen this one?” Henry says into the silence as the movie starts up. Adam takes a drink.

    “Don’t think so,” Ronan says, and Adam can hear him shift slightly, one leg going over the other, then back again. “Remind me what it’s about Parrish?”

    The warning in Adam’s chest tells him not to respond. _Why is he doing this?_ But it hits him. Ronan just wants everything to be ok. So it’s that, and the beer and a half in his stomach, that makes him say “It’s the one about how great capitalism is.”

    Henry smirks and Ronan says, “Oh, I thought it was about trees and how fucking awesome trees are.”

    “It is, but the trees are a metaphor about how you can’t hide from capitalism. Because capitalism is so great.”

    “Are there gonna be more trees in this one?” Gansey and Blue are laughing quietly on the floor.

    “I don’t know Lynch, we can only hope.” Adam wipes the smile from his face with another sip of his beer. Fetches another three quietly ten minutes in and passes them to Henry and Ronan. Doesn’t notice that he and Ronan are the only ones ready for another.

    At the end of the movie Adam feels - well, he isn’t sure. His head feels heavy and his thoughts feel light, like they’re moving around of their own free will. He jiggles his head experimentally, but nothing falls out, so he figures he’s ok. Takes another sip.

    Ronan has fallen suspiciously quiet, and as the movie ends he still doesn’t speak as Henry, Blue and Gansey start discussing it.

    Blue notices first and pipes up, “What, not enough trees for you Lynch?”

    Ronan shrugs, looks away, but Adam knows what’s wrong. “He’s sad about Katniss’ sister.” He hadn’t been paying enough attention to remember her name, but enough to know she’s killed in some war effort.

    Gansey raises his eyebrows, lip twitching in amusement. After a beat he says, “Aw.”

    Ronan doesn’t reply, and it’s enough to tell them that Adam’s right.

    Henry claps a hand on his shoulder and raises his beer. “A toast for… whassername,” he suggests, slightly tipsy himself. After a moment’s pause Ronan knocks their bottles together and Blue laughs.

    Ten minutes later Ronan has pulled himself together enough to join in, but it’s the beer that has him announce, “I’m naming my next pet Katniss. Katniss is awesome.”

    “Oh god,” says Gansey, “Isn’t your life full enough?”

    “No,” Ronan says somberly, “Chainsaw needs a sister,” and Henry is laughing at his side, pushing at him lightly. A smile threatens at Adam’s face so he stands up to get another beer.

    But Blue follows him, and in the kitchen says quietly, “Hey. Not to be the party pooper but I’ve never seen you drink this much.”

    Adam pauses, considers her words, and points at her. “Blue,” he says, “you know...” but he doesn’t finish, forgetting his thought halfway through. “You’re a good person, I hope you know that. I don’t _like_ you like that,” he adds quietly, putting a finger to his lips. “Gansey’s great, don’t you think? Don’t tell him,” he taps the bottle to his head, “his ego's big enough as it is." Adam pushes past her amused stance. He pops the cap on the pool table to startled responses in the room and leans against it, drinking. The pain that had settled at his stomach has been thoroughly washed away, and he barely remembers what memories he was trying to ignore, and the irony of that thought has him laughing.

    “What’s funny?” asks Gansey, and Adam grins at him, shrugging.

    “ _Life,_  Gansey,” he says, and hops up to sit on the table. “ _Life_ is funny.”

    “I tried,” Blue says, holding her hands up as she moves back to her place on the floor.

    “Like I get it now,” Adam continues, grinning, and there’s a voice in his head telling him to shut up, but it’s quiet enough and he doesn’t care enough and man if he knew _this_ was what it felt like - “I get it. He drank to forget me, right? You drink to forget the bad stuff, I _get it._ ” He smiles, broad and serious, and takes another sip.

    But Ronan’s stronger and the bottle is pulled from his grip. “Alright Parrish,” he says, and Adam feels indignant. Ronan’s had almost as much to drink as he has, but his tolerance is miles higher and Adam’s struggling to focus.

    Adam frowns at him, hopping off the table to stand and wobbles slightly at the effort, Ronan reaches a hand forward to steady him but Adam snaps “Fuck _off._ ”

    “Ok,” says Gansey, in that tone of his where he’s had enough, “Let’s get some fresh air.” He doesn’t wait for acquiescence, grabs Adam by the arm and guides him towards the stairs.

    He doesn’t let go until they’re outside, and Adam stumbles, grabbing at the wall to steady his body. He closes his eyes and takes in a breath of air. But then he’s chuckling again.

    “What is it now?” asks Gansey, and this time he doesn’t sound like he really wants to know.

    Adam straightens, turns, and sees Ronan come out as well. He throws a hand up. “Here he is,” Adam announces. “Lyyyyyynch,” he says, extending the word in a drawl.

    “Parrish,” Ronan says, concern and a warning note in his voice, but Adam cuts him off, starts walking forwards. Gansey moves his body subtly between the two so Adam stops.

    “Oh wait I’ve remembered _you’re_ what’s funny Lynch,” Adam starts to explain. It feels important that they know, and he doesn’t understand why they don’t already.

    “Adam,” starts Gansey, “maybe -”

    “No no no, you don’t _get it._  He’s an _asshole_ ,” he says with certainty and starts laughing again.

    “I’m going back inside,” Ronan says, voice empty. “Don’t let him die.”

    “I’ve got it,” Gansey assures him.

    Before Ronan can get inside Adam grins and hurls at him, “That’s right I forgot, you don’t wanna try, right?” Ronan stills and Adam stumbles, Gansey grabbing his shoulders, holding him carefully, trying to move him back a few inches. “That’s ok, that’s fine,” Adam says. “I get it. He didn’t either.” And then no one says anything. Adam stumbles away from Gansey and turns around, lifting his arms and breathing in the fresh air. The moon is bright on his face and he grins, feeling a light breeze tumble over him, not caring enough to notice the stillness behind him, feels so full and _alive_ that he wants to go somewhere, anywhere, drive a hundred miles an hour, crash a Camaro, dream a new one, start again tomorrow.

    When he turns round Ronan is gone and Gansey has his hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall. Adam sits heavily on the concrete by Gansey’s side, draws his knees up, puts his head between them. Everything feels so _heavy_ all of a sudden and all he can feel is the pounding in his skin, fuzzy edges to his vision.

    “Gansey,” he starts, and then he’s throwing up, body tilted to the side, Gansey holding him by the shoulders, and everything is too bright, and too dark, all at once.

 

When he wakes up his head is _pounding._ It takes him a few seconds to sort dreaming from being awake, and when he does he squeezes his eyes tighter together. Clutches at the pillow nestling under his head, breathes in the familiar scent of his bed, knows he’s at his own apartment. The pounding comes again and he puts his other hand to his head, dragging it over his face. _Christ,_  he thinks, every ounce of him regret. He doesn’t remember much of last night. Remembers the movie, mostly. Remembers drinking his way through Gansey’s beer. His skin crawls with the memory and he’s so ashamed. _This is how it starts_ , he thinks. _This is how it starts. How predictable. How weak. Just like_

    But then he realises the pounding is a continuous knocking on his door, and he sits up suddenly, then curses as his headache wasn’t imagined. It pounds through his body, mimicking his impatient visitor, and he slings legs over the side of his bed, tests his weight on them, stands with effort, and shuffles over to the door. When he opens it all he can see for a few seconds is bright violent daylight. He squints, barely registers a bag shoved against his chest, takes it, and hears, “You’re alive then.”

    Ronan shoves past him and Adam is too hungover to stop him. He blinks at the bag again until he realises it’s take out. Breakfast, or lunch maybe. He closes the door, turns and registers Ronan standing in the middle of his room, hands in his pocket, frame tense and angry.

    “Hi,” says Adam, rubbing at his eyes. “What uh, what do you want?”

    “I brought you food.”

    Adam looks down at the bag again. “I don’t need -”

    “Literally no one cares,” Ronan interrupts, and starts pacing the room. He gives Adam another look, so Adam places the bag on the desk, finds jeans on the floor and drags them on over his boxers, feeling awkward. He sits on the chair and waits. “Gansey says you haven’t been eating,” Ronan snaps.

    “Gansey’s an idiot,” says Adam, patiently.

    “Yeah well I’m fucking not, look at you,” Ronan says, gesturing at Adam’s body. “You've lost weight and you look like you’re experiencing ten hangovers, _eat._ ”

    Adam opens the bag, gives the contents an unimpressed look, then turns back to Ronan. “I’ll eat it if you leave,” he says.

    Ronan shakes his head, a furious flurry of movement in Adam’s tiny room. “You’re worth ten of him,” he says suddenly, and Adam frowns.

    “What?” he asks, not following. “Lynch, I’m tired, and I feel like hell, can we -”

    “If he was drinking to forget you it’s only because _he_ didn’t deserve _you_.”

    And it hits him. He remembers, now, the words that tumbled from his mouth last night. Stuff about his dad. About Ronan. His faces burns and he rubs a hand over it, achingly tired. “Look,” he begins, “I appreciate it, but this isn’t necessary.”

    “It fucking is,” Ronan says. “Your dad’s an asshole.”

    “I _know._ ” Adam’s voice is quiet. “I know, but can we -”

    “No we can’t,” and then Ronan is still, facing Adam, a quiet fury in his stance. “if you’re saying this shit when you’re drunk then you still don’t really know.”

    Adam doesn’t respond to that. He looks down at the desk, pushes a book away. Crumples the top of the bag to hide the smell. Raps his knuckles on the wood. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

    “I want you to say you didn’t deserve it.”

    “I know I didn’t, I’m not an idiot -”

    “I want you to say you deserve _better_ than that poor excuse for an asshole.”

    “Lynch, seriously, this isn’t -”

    “I want you to stop apologising for existing.”

    Adam stands up at that, anger coursing through his body. “ _Ronan_ , fucking hell, I’m serious, get _out_ -”

    “I want you to say you deserve more than me.”

    But there’s nothing to say to that. The turn in conversation gives Adam whiplash, and for a second all he can hear is the pounding in his skin. He feels clammy, and more than anything he wants to shower, or sleep, close his eyes somewhere Ronan’s words can’t touch him. “W- what the hell does that mean?”

    Ronan’s jaw is set, his eyes a hard line, his unflinching gaze only leaving Adam’s face when the door closes behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maximum long for maximum angst... Or uh there was more left to write than I thought. Either way enjoy xxx

After Ronan’s left and Adam’s stared at the door for a few minutes, frozen, he gets in the shower. There’s no going back to sleep now, and he feels anger pounding in time with his headache. Closes his eyes against the stream of water, presses a hand flat against the wall, lets himself feel the ache of missing Cabeswater, and imagines it guiding the anger away from him and through cold tile.

    It’s an age later when he finally leaves, one hand holding his keys and the other in his pocket. But he doesn’t really know where he’s going. Part of him wants to race to the Barns, get Ronan to sit still for once, explain what he meant. _You deserve more than me_. He closes his eyes, still unmoving and indecisive on the steps. Counts to five. Breathes out. Gets in his car.

    He pulls into Monmouth and is up the stairs before he hears raised voices. Well, one raised voice. The door is ajar and he lingers, hesitant. “You don’t know _shit_ ,” he hears Ronan say, and looks behind him, almost instinctively, knows he should leave, or announce his presence, something.

    Gansey’s voice is calmer when he says, “Don’t give me that, I know you better than you do.”

    A clatter makes Adam jump, and he reaches tentatively for the doorknob.

    “Don’t fucking talk like - this is none of your business.”

    “Stop wrecking my stuff and making it my business, then.” It goes still then. Quiet, except for the sound of heaving breathing.

    “Does he know?”

    “Oh _fuck_ _you_ ,” and suddenly Adam can’t take it anymore, presses one hand to the door and pushes it open, doesn’t move forward.

    “Know what?” asks Adam.

    Ronan looks up at him, eyes wide, a fire raging behind them. “Oh perfect,” he mutters, looking away. Gansey rubs at his face. They’re stood in separate halves of the room, Ronan near a wrecked portion of miniature Willis Street.

    No one responds, so Adam moves into the room, his voice quiet. “Does he know what?”

    Ronan never lies to Adam, not intentionally. Adam knows this without a doubt, so he’s not surprised when Ronan doesn’t say anything. Adam looks at Gansey, who’s fidgeting, like he doesn’t know whether he should leave.

    It’s unbearable, so Adam says, “Ronan can I talk to you? Outside?”

    He waits a beat and then Gansey clears his throat and says, “I was just about to go pick up Jane. I’ll… I’ll be right back,” he adds, like he’s not sure they’re safe to leave. Adam nods at him and Gansey steps out, closing the door behind him.

    Adam stays near the door, like he has a hope in hell of blocking Ronan’s exit if Ronan really wants to leave, and fidgets with his sleeve. When Ronan still isn’t looking at him Adam says, “Why did you wreck Willis Street?”

    Ronan rolls his eyes, leans against the pool table. “It was nothing personal.”

    But that’s not the right answer and they both know it. “Why are you mad at Gansey?”

    “I’m not…” Ronan sounds frustrated, crossing his arms and glaring out the window. “He’s…” he falters again. “Gansey’s just being very _Gansey_ today.”

    “He’s Gansey,” Adam says, shrugging. He doesn’t know why he feels so calm in the face of Ronan’s temper, but he’s used to being the quiet in Ronan’s storm. “We keep him around anyway. Sometimes he comes in handy.”

    He’s hoping to make Ronan smile, and sees a small twitch appear at the side of Ronan’s mouth.

    “What are you mad about?” Adam asks again. Sometimes with Ronan it’s just a matter of finding the right question, and he can see that Ronan knows what he’s doing, because he stands suddenly, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

    “Well fuck Parrish,” Ronan breathes out, “you want me to pick _one_ thing?” And Adam knows he’s deflecting.

    Suddenly he can’t take it anymore, and it almost bursts out of him, “What did I do that was so awful?”

    At that Ronan stills, looks Adam dead in the eyes, his face ashen. There’s a pause before he says, strained, “ _Parrish…_ ” but suddenly Adam doesn’t want to hear anymore. He turns and leaves. Hurries down the stairs, throws himself into his car and peels away.

 

Monday is terrible. If it’s possible Adam still feels wretched from Friday’s drinking, though that probably isn’t helped by how little food and drink he had over the weekend. His run in with Ronan on Saturday leeched all remaining breath out of him, and he still feels like he’s struggling to fill his lungs, one hand on his fork, his forehead resting in the other, when Gansey sits down.

    “You were both gone when I got back,” Gansey says, not even saying hello.

    Adam doesn’t reply, doesn’t look up at him.

    “Willis Street took all of Sunday to fix,” Gansey tries again.

    Adam contemplates the inch of pasta lining his plate, pokes it again.

    “Are you going to eat that?”

    Adam shrugs, lifts a fork to his mouth, eats a bit, puts the fork back down. Closes his eyes. Feels pathetic for making a fuss, for over complicating everything, feels pathetic for eating, for giving in, for being weak.

    “I wish you would talk to me…”

    “Why?”

    The look Gansey gives Adam then is so sad Adam feels like he could drown in it. “I want to help.”

    Adam looks down, and for the first time since Ronan ended things feels like crying.

    Gansey must sense this, because he hurries on, “If you can’t talk at least listen. Here are some things I know, with absolute certainty. You are not pathetic. It is not pathetic to feel sad that the person you… well… it’s not pathetic to miss him, to feel let down. It’s not _wrong_ to feel angry at him, anger can be a perfectly healthy human emotion that you happen to have had abusive experiences with.”

    “Gansey,” Adam starts, voice quiet, wanting him to stop.

    “And I’m allowed to be angry at him too,” Gansey says, a little more forcefully. “I’m not picking sides Adam, you know I wouldn’t do that, Ronan means as much to me as you do, but he’s been worse than usual recently, and I can’t excuse the way he treated you.”

    Adam frowns at that, looks up. “What do you mean?”

    “Well,” Gansey says, looking a bit awkward. “Like at Harry’s, when you got your acceptance letters. He was an asshole to you for no reason. You left before you could hear Blue laying into him, it was quite a sight.”

    Adam muddles through his thoughts. “But that was my fault,” he says finally, and Gansey’s expression shatters. “It was my fault, all the arguing, the bickering. I never really talked to him about college, we never discussed it. I was the one leaving him. You don’t understand…”

    “Oh, Adam,” Gansey says, like he’s letting out a breath, and Adam’s voice fails at Gansey’s expression. His face is turned to the side, brows furrowed, tension in his cheekbones. “I’m going to kill him.”

    Adam raises his eyebrows. “Uh, don’t.”

    “It wasn’t your fault, ok? None of it,” he barrels on, not letting Adam interrupt, “You were always clear from the start who you were and what your goals were and what was important to you. If Ronan can’t handle that isn’t that his problem?”

    Adam chews his lip, but he can’t really take in what Gansey’s saying. Suddenly he feels warm, the cafeteria is too damn hot, and he hasn’t taken in a full breath since Saturday, and he stands up, almost falling over, doesn’t say a word to Gansey, just leaves the table, not even sure where he’s going as he opens the door and leaves school.

 

On the way home he drops by Boyd’s to let him know he’s left school with a fever and won’t be at work that night. When he gets to St Agnes he takes his shoes off and climbs into bed. A numbness has settled over his bones and he welcomes it. It’s easier to breathe under the covers; everything is his laundry detergent, his sweat, the scent of his humid apartment. Later, someone knocks on the door, but Adam knows determination, has lived determination, and he just ignores it and lets sleep pull him back under.

 

Adam doesn’t go to school the next day. Part of him hopes that Gansey will cover for him, or get him notes, but a larger part has stopped caring. It’s hard to care when he’s nestled in blankets, shutting out the world. At some point - he doesn’t know when, time has ceased to be important to him, and he hasn’t looked at his watch in days - there’s a knock at the door. He counts to a hundred in Latin, lists US presidents, and when he’s done the noise has stopped. He nuzzles his face against his pillow, covers his eyes with his hand. Thoughts hum through him sometimes but it’s like a gentle breeze, and he tenses against them until they pass.

 

On Wednesday there’s another knock at his door. _One day_ , he thinks, _I’m going to live in D.C., in a penthouse, in one of those fancy apartment blocks with doormen, and no one will ever be able to knock on my door again if I don’t want them to._ They knock again. Adam considers yelling at whoever to go away, but isn’t sure it won’t make them more persistent.

    “Parrish, come on,” comes a voice, and Adam tenses. “I just… can we talk?”

    Adam clutches his blanket harder between his hands, and whole minutes pass, and there’s nothing. Just as he thinks Ronan must have gone away he realises there is a faint sound coming from the other side of the door, and he can’t quite make it out. He sits up slightly, strains his ears towards the door, and realises Ronan is singing the Murder Squash Song.

    He isn’t sure if its rage, bewilderment or the injustice of it all that has him leaving his bed, storming across the room and pulling the door open. Ronan is sat on the ground, legs crossed, hands in his pockets, looking like he was always meant to be there. He looks up, raises an eyebrow, says with a drawl, “You’re alive then.”

    Adam is unimpressed. “What do you want.”

    Ronan actually hesitates, eyes locked onto Adam’s, and it’s that more than the “Five minutes,” that has Adam hold the door open. He doesn’t wait for Ronan though, walks back into the room. Grabs clothes and storms into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. He starts brushing his teeth and hears Ronan shout _I hope you’re not using up my five minutes for hygiene asshole,_ turns the tap on louder. Dresses quickly and opens the door again. Ronan is sitting on his bed, but at Adam’s appearance he jumps up, stands in the middle of the room, restless, like he doesn’t know what to do with his long arms. Stuffs his hands in his pockets.

    Adam takes a step forward. He wants this over with so that Ronan will leave, can’t bear the sight of him here in his apartment. He tries to sound pissed but it comes out in a rasp, “What do you _want?_ ”

    Ronan’s mouth is opening and closing like he wants to say something but isn’t sure how, or what, or where to start. He moves forward, stops, a breath away from Adam. “What do you want?” says Adam again, but it’s even shakier this time. Ronan’s face is inches away from his, studying him like he’s a complicated problem, eyebrows frowning and gaze electric. Adam’s breath catches in his throat. A second passes. And then Ronan’s kissing him.

    Adam’s brain goes numb. Ronan’s lips brush against his again, one hand coming up to rest on his cheek, Adam going stiff beneath his touch. But as Ronan starts to draw back Adam crashes forward and there’s no tenderness this time. Adam kisses Ronan like he’s yelling at him, like he’s making up for lost time, like he’s hurling every hurt his way. His hands are grabbing at Ronan’s arms, his shoulders, and Ronan’s are cupping Adam’s head, his neck, pushing down to his lower back.

    And then Ronan’s pushing Adam against the wall, and their hips meet in the air before crashing against each other, the wall firm behind them. Adam moans into Ronan’s mouth at the contact, and Ronan’s hands are at the edge of his shirt, pushing under, fingers grazing across his skin. Adam shudders and as they kiss, gasping for air together, his fingernails dig into Ronan’s shoulders, scratching across his back, his tongue flicking into Ronan’s mouth, and then Ronan’s breathing _Fuck,_ and he’s running one hand through Adam’s hair, the other hand trailing down his stomach, playing at the button on his jeans…

    Adam pushes Ronan away in one violent movement. Ronan stumbles backwards, and then he’s in the middle of the room. For a few seconds there’s nothing but the heavy sound of breathing, the pounding of Adam’s heart, the way Ronan isn’t meeting his eyes, until Adam catches enough breath to say “ _Get out._ ” He throws everything he can into it and it comes out bitter and awful, and Ronan doesn’t look at him as he turns and leaves.

 

Gansey looks surprised, but pleased, and Henry holds out his arms and calls, “Parrish!” as Adam approaches them the next morning. “Not infectious I hope?” Adam shakes his head. Doesn’t meet Gansey’s eyes. “Thank Christ.”

    “What he means is we’re glad you’re back,” Gansey says with a smile.

    Adam manages a nod, and trails after them inside.

    He doesn’t know how to feel about Ronan’s visit yesterday. Thoughts are racing through him and it was enough to keep him up last night, enough to finally tire of the apartment this morning as he dressed for Aglionby. He’s so tired of Ronan’s volatile moods. Frustrated that he doesn’t understand any of it. Knows he was right to kick Ronan out, knows he’s furious at him for just, just, just _turning up_ like that like he can just kiss Adam and… at that Adam’s brain cuts out, mind a flurry of memory, of touch, of breaths.

    He shoves open the door to first period harder than necessary, and Gansey catches it behind him. Shoves himself into his seat and slams his bag on his desk.

    “Glad to see you’re feeling better,” Gansey says, and there’s a hint of amusement to his voice that Adam is too tired to bother with.

    At lunchtime Henry and Gansey are talking to each other, having given up on Adam joining in, and Adam is glaring at his food, when Ronan sits down opposite him. It’s like the whole room goes quiet, but of course it doesn’t - most people too caught up in their own conversations to have noticed the tall, shaved ex-senior, dressed head to toe in black, stride through a room filled entirely with white shirts and navy jackets.

    Adam blinks at him and says, “Uh, what… how...” but doesn’t manage to finish.

    Henry looks at him, then at Ronan. “He makes a good point,” he says, “how did you get in looking like _that_?”

    “What are you doing here?” asks Gansey, frowning. “They’ll kick you out.”

    “I’ve got a minute,” says Ronan, brushing them off and not looking away from Adam. “Parrish,” he says, “a word.”

    Adam takes in a steadying breath. “For fuck’s sake Lynch, I… not _here_.”

    Ronan nods. “Here, now, it’s got to be.”

    “Jesus why are you like this? Why does everything have to happen the second you decide something?”

    “We could be dead tomorrow,” Ronan replies, like it’s obvious.

    “And you have the attention span of a two year old,” Gansey says, shaking his head.

    Henry is grinning, and on the lookout for unhappy staff, but Ronan’s gaze is steady as he says, “That was a shitty apology.”

    It takes a moment for Adam to register the words, to put them together in the fog. “Are you kidding?” he finally says.

    Ronan raises an eyebrow. “Which bit?”

    Adam is so incredibly aware of Henry and Gansey at their sides, and tries to ignore how warm his face is when he says, “That was meant to be a fucking apology?” Ronan doesn’t say anything so he adds, “For what?” When Ronan opens his mouth to answer Adam shakes his head. “You know what, no, not here. I can’t do this h-”

    “I’m sorry.”

    The words cut through the air. Adam can feel Gansey tense, can feel the attention in Henry’s stance, but all he sees is Ronan. How sincere and open and pliant his stupid face is, looking at Adam as though no one else in the world exists. Adam takes a breath, licks his lips, clears his throat. It doesn’t feel enough. “I don’t…” he starts. He clears his throat again, sees Gansey playing with his fork in the corner of his eye. “God you just… I have class Ronan.”

    “I know.”

    “Right. So. Look, I don’t…” _Good god._ Adam’s heart is pounding a mile a minute and he needs room to think, to breathe. And he can’t with Henry and Gansey here. With Ronan looking at him like that. “I need... can we just talk later?” Adam stands up, leaves his plate, grabs his bag and he’s halfway through the cafeteria when he hears,

    “ _Adam_.”

    At that the room does go quiet. And now Adam can hear a few mutterings, some people naming Ronan, some whispering rumours, _he bailed to take care of his illegitimate daughter_ , _he taught a crow to attack his enemies, how did he get_ in _here,_ and Adam doesn’t take in any of it.

    He doesn’t turn round, can’t, lets the echoes of Ronan saying his name ricochet gently against the walls in his head. Closes his eyes. _Ronan_ , he thinks. And then he does turn round, and Ronan is standing, frame all tense desperation, face patient, eyes locking on Adam’s, waiting for permission, and Adam nods, and turns back to leave, knowing Ronan is following him.

 

Adam knows they only have a few minutes before campus security catch up to them, so he leads Ronan to the copse of trees near the parking lot, turns, lets his hands dangle uselessly at his sides, waits for Ronan to talk.

    Ronan stills in front of him, struggles with something, then says, “I’m sorry. For all of it. I was - I’m an asshole. I… Give me another chance.”

    Adam closes his eyes. Counts heartbeats in his throat. “I don’t know…” he starts.

    “Ok but listen,” Ronan cuts across him, “I actually have a really convincing argument,” and it takes everything in Adam not to let his lips twitch, “just give me five minutes.”

    “What’s with you and fives?” Adam says, but he already knows he’s going to give him it.

    Ronan takes a deep breath, looks away, shoulders straining tense under his leather jacket. “Gansey said… actually you know what I have an addendum.”

    “I don’t think you’re in any position to be proposing addendums, Lynch.”

    “Just one. Don’t… just don’t fucking say anything til I’m done, alright?” Adam nods, looking at his shoes. “Gansey told me you think it was all you.” Adam looks up at that, opens his mouth to speak, to object, but Ronan cuts him off. “That’s… that’s not what. I thought you knew,” and Ronan is shoving his fists in his pockets, a tell of his frustration, “I thought you knew that I… I couldn’t deal with you… I love you and I thought you were leaving me and I acted like an asshole.”

    Adam’s breath is crashing against his chest and maybe it’s that that makes him feel dizzy. Maybe it’s the weeks of barely eating, barely sleeping, finally catching up to him. Adam is undone, but Ronan keeps going.

    “I know I’m shit at this stuff, so let me just… I’m trying to be clear. I love you. I’m sorry. I was an asshole. I was in the wrong. I lashed out at you… Gansey said I was pushing you away before you got the chance to leave me,” he mutters, embarrassed, looking off into the distance, eyes tightening and Adam looks too, sees security advancing from across the parking lot.

    He and Ronan both start walking slowly in the opposite direction. Adam still can’t speak, words crashing into his throat and dying before they hit his mouth.

    “I _want_ you, Adam,” and the fierceness of Ronan's tone makes Adam look sideways at him, at the frustration in his tense jawline. “I’ve never wanted anything this much and… Christ Parrish will you say something?”

    Adam gulps, clears his throat. “It’s not been five minutes,” he says, but Ronan must hear his tone, because he stops, grabs Adam’s arm, and kisses him. It’s brief, because the security guard has caught up to them and says _Look kid do you have ID on you?_ and Adam merely smirks as Ronan replies _Jesus I’m going ok calm down_ , makes sure he catches his expression as Ronan finds his way to his car, mouths _the Barns_ to him, sees Ronan nod in response, watches him drive away.

 

Adam doesn’t meet Gansey’s eyes for the rest of the day, and Gansey wins friend of the year award for not asking, and when the final bell rings Adam tears out of Aglionby, foot on the gas the whole way to the Barns.

    Ronan’s waiting outside, sitting on the porch steps, one knee twitching up and down, Chainsaw flying circles around his head, but he’s standing by the time Adam reaches him, and Adam puts his hands on his shoulders and kisses him. Lets his heart fill with it, feels Ronan against his lips, smiles into him. Laughs as Ronan’s hands snake around his waist, lifting him off the ground.

    Later, on the couch, Ronan is still muttering apologies against Adam’s lips, his face, and a memory makes Adam draw back, smirking at Ronan’s protests.

    “Hey uh, I’m sorry too,” Adam says, and before Ronan can object he hurries on, “Gansey said something to me as well. About how I was always clear about my priorities, and it was your job to deal.” Ronan frowns, confused. “But I think maybe I forgot to mention…” Adam pauses, running a hand over Ronan’s shoulder. “You’re a priority too. As much as college is. I want to go, but I also want to come back. To you. I want this to work. I'm sorry you didn't know that, I should have made sure every part of you knew that, knew how much I want you.” He looks into Ronan's softening gaze. “I love you,” he says, and it's almost a whisper.

    Ronan's eyes burn into Adam's and then he's kissing him, and Adam's just done with everything, with everything except this, Ronan's body next to his, pressing him into the back of the couch, mouth hot against his own, nerves on fire wherever Ronan's hands are touching him.

    And then he's chuckling against Ronan's lips, and Ronan pulls back, expression amused. “What?”

    “Gansey is such a meddler,” Adam says, grinning.

    Ronan nods. “Fucking _Gansey_ ,” he says, leaning in to kiss Adam again.

    “Fucking Gansey,” Adam agrees, but Ronan ducks his head away from Adam, groans, rubs a hand over his face, and Adam is laughing, and the sound is bouncing off old wood beams, crashing against the crumbling walls in Adam's head, into Ronan's open arms, his mouth, his smile, and it's _everything_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you ever doubt me come on


End file.
